The Call of Duty
by Ebony10
Summary: When Lisbon is taken hostage, the race to save her is on. Progressively more and more Jisbon since I'm hopeless. :D
1. Okay

Okay, everyone, there has been at least two Lisbon taken hostage fanfics so I thought I'd jump on the bandwagon. : D I don't know much about law and law enforcement and hostage situations, etc. so please take this all with a grain of salt. Just pretend that this is the way of things. SRU in this fic stands for Strategic Response Unit (think Flashpoint). This will be my first multi-chaptered Mentalist fic (with a continuous plot, I mean) so hopefully it doesn't suck. : ) I think the style is rather different from my other fics, just to let you know. I promise to try to keep any future ANs to a minimum.

Here is my blanket disclaimer—I. do. not. own. them. But I wish I did. ; )

Chapter One: Okay

"Lisbon, I don't think this is a good idea."

Lisbon sighed and turned to the consultant. "You just don't like the fact that you can't go in too. You're a control freak."

He lifted a brow as if to question just _who_ the control freak was, but he refrained from speaking the words. His face turned serious once more. "Really, Lisbon."

Van Pelt nodded her earnest agreement. Cho spoke up. "I agree, boss. This guy is off his rocker."

Before Rigsby could chime in, Lisbon cut them off. "Look, guys, I'm his main target and I'm not about to let him hurt all of those innocent people because of me."

_Thirty Five Minutes Earlier_

"_Boss, there's a call for you. Someone from the Sacramento PD." Rigsby shrugged in answer to her questioning look. "Didn't say what he wanted."_

_Odd. Usually the police chief would call the CBI superiors if they needed help. The actual cops working the line hardly ever wanted the assistance—it was well known that CBI teams took over investigations. She sometimes wondered why they felt the possessive need to hold on to a case that would be better left to the CBI. Lisbon had no doubt that, if it were possible to do so with an intangible thing, the PD would piss on the case just to mark their territory._

_Like a frustrated alpha dog._

_She shook these thoughts off and picked up the phone, dialing the extension for the operator who then connected her to the right line. "Agent Lisbon."_

_There was a pause after her words before a man spoke. "Good morning, Agent Lisbon. This is sergeant Willowby of the Sacramento SRU. We have a situation that involves you."_

_She was silent, listening to his description of said situation. Apparently, a man had taken hostages at a high traffic bank north of downtown. Not an unusual occurrence—sad, but true. What was unusual was that he wasn't demanding money. At least, not yet. He was using the thirty-two hostages (which included children) as bartering tools for his real objective._

_And, apparently, that objective was the custody of Agent Teresa Lisbon of the CBI._

_His name was Jack Merkowitz. Wasting no time, Lisbon leaned toward the keyboard of her desktop computer to type his name into the database as Willowby continued to talk._

_Ah, yes. Merkowitz. Convicted of arson conspiracy seven years ago. It had been early in her career—before she was anywhere near head agent. He had been sentenced to ten years jail time, with possibility of parole. Lisbon vaguely remembered him. She had been the arresting agent and somehow he had fixated on her. She had received hate mail from him for a month after his incarceration before she took action. The letters had stopped and so she forgot about him. After all, in her line of work this kind of thing was not an unique happening._

_Well, he had been out on parole for nearly two months now. He had been a busy man. A bank heist took planning, even if the end goal wasn't the money in the safe. Willowby paused and Lisbon summed up. "So, Merkowitz is threatening to kill off the hostages one by one every 10 minutes, starting in an hour and a half. If I give myself up to him, he'll let twenty-two of the hostages go. Does he have any other requests?"_

"_No. He claims he will give us his other demands after we comply with his first," Willowby replied. He didn't ask her to give herself up. Not a word about it. He had simply outlined what had happened. She stood, pushing her chair back from her desk._

"_I'll be there in twenty minutes."_

_Not waiting for a response, she hung up and headed to the door, grabbing her coat on the way. As she shut her office door behind her, Cho approached._

"_A case?"_

_She hesitated. "Not exactly. Whoever wants to join: feel free, but we're taking one car so I only have to explain once."_

_Of course, they all went. None of them, not one, were easily left in the dark. Jane was curiously quiet as he climbed into the car stuffed with agents. Good thing the CBI used SUVs instead of mid-size cars. That could have been uncomfortable. As it was, Jane was sure that Rigsby was taking up more than his share of the backseat. How had Cho made it to the front passenger seat so fast?_

_At Lisbon's request, they were silent during her explanation. She had Minelli on speaker phone so she could keep him informed. Surprisingly, he was rather subdued when she finished._

"_Lisbon, do what you think best. As of right now, you are off the clock—just an agent on a day off. Just make sure you're back tomorrow. I don't have time to find a new head agent." With that, the line went silent and Lisbon shut her phone, waiting for her team to start speaking. Since they had arrived at the destination, she parked the car and climbed out. The others followed suit._

That is what had brought them to this point. Jane spoke once more. "Lisbon, he hasn't asked for an escape route. That is not promising. It means he's not planning to leave."

She ignored the truth that lurked in his words and the agreement in the eyes of her agents. "He hasn't made all of his demands. That could be next on the list."

"Yeah, after revenge." While Cho's usual sarcasm laid out the words, the bite behind them had Lisbon turning her eyes to him. He had been with her the longest. Not there for Merkowitz, but it didn't matter. Since she had started working with Cho, they had always had an understanding of sorts. She had never heard him speak to her with that bitterness lacing his words. She held his gaze for a moment.

"You would do the same, Cho. I can get twenty-two of those people out of there or he can start shooting them. Not much of a choice in my book," she said solemnly. "Once I'm in there, there's a good chance that the other ten will be safer."

She didn't have to say aloud that she would be the sole focus of Merkowitz. They were all thinking it. She looked past Cho's shoulder, seeing a uniformed member of SRU approach. Probably Willowby. She turned back to her team.

"Van Pelt, I need you to dig up everything you can on the last seven years of this guy's life. Why this bank? If there's a reason, find it. Rigsby, Jane. You two find his place of residence for the last two months. I need you to _know_ this guy, okay? Cho, you stay with sergeant Willowby and keep the team informed. You're the boss for my day off, alright?" She forced her orders to come out calmly, as if this situation was no different from another. Her team was silent and still. Willowby was almost to them. Lisbon's voice lost any lightness it had, becoming hard and demanding. "I'm doing this. Are you all in?"

"Silly question, Lisbon. We'd come in with you if it were possible," Jane responded, annoyance breaking his normally blasé countenance. "But since it's not, we are going to do everything we can to save those people. Besides, Minelli expects you back tomorrow."

It was as close as he could get to telling her to be careful, to be alright, to come back to them. Rigsby, Cho, and Van Pelt nodded. Lisbon avoided meeting Jane's eyes as she briefed Willowby (who had, by that time, arrived) on her team's orders. He was actually helpful and willing to accept help. She was glad he was one of those rare guys who really just wanted to defuse the situation with as little bloodshed as possible, no matter who got to be the alpha dog.

He explained that there was a possibility that Merkowitz would lose it once they gave in to his demand, that he could just take out everyone left in the building.

"If we don't, though, someone will die every ten minutes. And that is not just a possibility," Lisbon pointed out coolly. Finally sure that Agent Lisbon knew what she was getting into, Willowby motioned for her and Cho to follow him. Jane quickly grabbed her wrist, preventing her from going further than a few steps. He spoke quietly, only for her ears, but the softness of his words didn't disguise the intensity of them.

"You will come out of there, Lisbon. You have to." His direct gaze bore into her. It was rare that he issued something sounding indisputably like an order. He tried to lessen the seriousness of the situation. "We still have those trust issues to work on, after all."

His closing words lightened the mood a bit, but she wasn't fooled. His face may be smiling now, but his eyes hadn't lost that driving force. She chose to ignore the fervency displayed in his eyes and focused on his words.

"Jane, no matter how many trust falls you make me do, it's not going to change anything. You'll still be you and I'll still be me. And that's okay." She wished she could be flippant or soothing...But there was a possibility that she wasn't leaving that bank the same way she went in and she wanted him to know that, even if she didn't trust him, it was okay. _He_ was okay.

They were okay.

Even if things weren't going to be okay.


	2. Obsessed

Okay, the last chapter didn't have a lot of Jane—it was more of a setting the scene chapter—so this one will go a bit deeper as the plot thickens. It is, however, short. Sorry, I just felt that was where this one should end. Also, thanks to Kathi-ann for all of her support on this one!

Chapter Two: Obsessed

Jane slid his cell phone back into his pocket and turned to Rigsby. "Cho says the trade went off without a hitch. The twenty-two people are being looked over, but seem to be fine. No new demands yet."

Rigsby nodded, feeling helpless. He liked to be in on the action. He checked his cell for the third time in the last minute and perked up. "Van Pelt just texted me Merkowitz's address. Let's go."

Rigsby put the car into drive and pulled out of his parking spot. Even though Jane knew that it took far less time than it should have to make it to Merkowitz's apartment, it still didn't seem fast enough. He was pretty sure that any amount of time would feel like forever while Lisbon was in the custody of that criminal. For a moment, he felt a strong hatred inside—the likes of which he had only ever felt for Red John. Once more, someone he cared about was in trouble. And again, it was out of his control.

No. He couldn't think that way. He needed to get into this guy's head by following Lisbon's last order. He mentally grimaced. No, not _last_ order—just the latest order. Yes, that sounded better. Less...permanent. He was suddenly even more enthusiastic about Rigsby's attempt to break land speed records. He needed to get into this guy's apartment and, thus, his head.

Jane waited with his hands clasped behind his back, seemingly patient, as Rigsby called out the obligatory demand to open the door. After identifying themselves as CBI and receiving no response, Rigsby kicked the door in. Maybe Jane was just projecting, but it seemed as if Rigsby used much more force than normal—or even necessary. Taking out his frustrations, Jane supposed. For the first time, he could see the appeal in punching a wall. All this energy churned inside of him yet he had no way to release it. All he wanted to do was be with Lisbon, know what was happening where she was. To know if anything was happening to her. And, if so, to put an end to it. One way or another.

He guessed that Rigsby was feeling the same way. Poor door. Just an innocent bystander. Good thing Jane didn't do those kinds of displays of frustration. Too open to the interpretation of others. He didn't like to give people the opportunity to read him.

Rigsby looked around, gun drawn on the off chance that there would be a threat. Jane unerringly headed down a hallway toward a closed door at the end. Without pausing, he opened it and entered the room. It was dark. He heard Rigsby sigh behind him. He often frustrated his colleagues with his lack of cautiousness, but he couldn't help it. If Lisbon were here, she would berate him for not having a sense of self-preservation. And maybe he didn't. After all, he had told himself for years that he had nothing left to live for save revenge.

He wondered now: if that were true, why was it so upsetting to think about coming into an office that didn't have Lisbon? If he had nothing to live for, nothing that he cared enough about to live for, then why did he feel rather empty at the thought of seeing Rigsby's curious face behind him rather than Lisbon's exasperated one?

Ah, well. More important things to focus on now. He reached out and flipped the light switch. As light filtered through the room, he froze and heard Rigsby's sharp intake of air.

This did not bode well.

The room was plastered with photographs. It was as if Merkowitz had created a wallpaper with images of Lisbon. Jane knew from his impeccable memory and sense for detail that all of the photos were recent—within the last three weeks.

This man was obsessed. And obsessed men were never as stable as they might seem.

Jane would know.


	3. Reunion

So, I think this story is going to be longer than I expected, but I could be wrong. Just some advance warning. lol—I just read another story where Lisbon gets taken hostage. It's a trend, really. Poor Lisbon. This chapter is dedicated to House Calls! : )

Chapter Three: Reunion

Lisbon hadn't known what to expect. She could remember Merkowitz, but she couldn't quite recall his face. After all, it had been seven years and countless cases since she had seen him. She had practically forgotten all about him.

But he hadn't forgotten her.

His expression made that clear when she first came into view. He had let 22 of the hostages go, trusting that Lisbon would make good on her word. Because if she didn't, he still had 10 more that he could use to make her regret it. She entered the bank with her hands up.

Even though she couldn't remember his face, she knew him instantly. His expression was a strange mix of malice and yearning. She forced herself to remain aloof, to not show any emotion. Merkowitz signaled for one of the hostages to go pat her down, but otherwise remained silent. The young man who approached her looked nervous.

"Sorry," he muttered as he reached out to frisk her. She smiled consolingly.

"It's fine."

The young man removed the walkie talkie that had been clipped to her belt and gave it to Merkowitz. The gun-wielding man looked at it as if it were an object from a curio cabinet before setting it on a nearby desk. After receiving confirmation that she was indeed unarmed, Merkowitz spoke. "Agent Lisbon, what a pleasure to see you. It has been a long time, hasn't it?"

"Yes, Jack, it has," she responded, taking a cue from him and keeping a pleasant tone. It was as if they had just run into each other at the supermarket.

"Ah, the old 'first name trick.' Well, if you think you know me well enough to use my first name, feel free. I hope you won't mind if I do so as well, Teresa," he commented. His stance was almost lazy, completely at ease with the gun in his hand, but she could see a sharpness in his eyes that belied his nonchalance. He would be ready to act in a split second. She hated the way her name sounded coming from his mouth, but she made sure it didn't show. He beckoned to her. "Come here. You'll sit right here where I can see you—far away from anything."

She followed his directions, sitting in a chair that had been pushed to the center of an open area. Surreptitiously, she scoped out the setting. He had chosen well. She hadn't had time to go over any blueprints with Willowby. They had wanted to get those people out as soon as possible, but she could see now that the building did not have the wide open windows that many banks in the area boasted. The layout was open, not allowing much cover for covert rescue attempts. She could even see underneath the desks. The only area not visible from where they were was behind the main counter, which was not accessible from the exterior of the bank. Yes, he had chosen well.

It would be very difficult to receive outside assistance. Suddenly, she felt as if she were in a coffin, sealed away from the world, helpless. She heard laughter.

"Done perusing my choice of venue for this reunion, Teresa?" She didn't answer. She could practically hear the smug satisfaction in his tone. For a moment, she was reminded of Jane. Amazing how arrogance could be so different from one man to another. "What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?"

Merkowitz jumped forward and poised his gun under her chin, gripping her hair with his free hand. "Nothing to say to me?"

A loose cannon. One minute calm with a pseudo pleasantness, the next enraged and confrontational. She gazed at the anger on his face. She needed to get the others out of here. A loose cannon could fire at any moment—no matter the target.

She had signed up to protect and serve. And she would.

She had to get them out, but until then she would have to keep the cannon aimed at herself. No need for senseless casualties. "This is between you and me, Jack. Just between us."

She was surprised at how calm her voice sounded. She had always prided herself on her ability to remain cool in any situation, to not show any fear or nervousness. She would have to use all of her skill to get through this.

Absurdly, she wondered what the team was doing.

"Between us?" He used the nose of the gun to trace a line from her jaw to her collarbone, his eyes on her face. The anger had dissipated, leaving bitterness and a sort of fascination. "Yes, it is. But I'm not quite ready to give the others up. There's still fun to be had."

He leaned even closer to her and took a deep breath. She had the thought that he was smelling her shampoo. Strange, but then he wasn't quite normal. He backed away from her. She ignored his stare and looked at the other hostages, taking the time to study them now that she had ascertained the building's stats. They were understandably shaken up. She tallied them: five men, three women, and two children. The children were clinging to a woman that Lisbon assumed was their mother. The other two women seemed to be bank associates, along with three of the men. From the looks of it, Lisbon assumed the remaining two men just had the misfortune to need to get some banking done today.

She felt the faint fluttering of guilt, but she squelched it. She knew that going down that road would help no one and she couldn't take responsibility for the actions of a criminal. The most she could do was try to keep these people safe.

Static filled the air and Merkowitz picked up the walkie talkie Lisbon had brought. "Jack? Jack, are you there?"

Lisbon recognized Willowby's voice. Merkowitz smiled coldly. "See, Teresa? They know that trick, too. Think they can befriend me simply because they know my first name."

She held his gaze, not wanting to allow him more control than he already had. His eyes narrowed as he lifted the device to his mouth. "I'm here."

"Okay, Jack. You have Agent Lisbon. How about we let the rest of those people go and we can talk this out?"

Laughter rang out. "Talk it out? Who do you think you are—Dr. Phil?"

There was no response so he continued. "No. No, I think that the twelve of us can have some fun here."

He began walking, casually pointing his gun at the hostages one by one. They turned their eyes away, fear in every line of their bodies. Only one—the man who had checked Lisbon for weapons—maintained eye contact, a slightly belligerent set to his jaw. Lisbon hoped that he stayed down and quiet. She didn't need one of them trying to play hero—it didn't usually end so well. Lisbon had to fight the urge to get up and face off against Merkowitz. Much as she wanted to, she was both unarmed and unwilling to endanger their lives like that. The mother held her children's faces against her shoulders, trying to shield them as much as possible.

"What do you think Teresa would do to protect them? Hmm?"

"Jack, let's be calm. Let's think this through." Willowby's voice stayed calm, but Lisbon could imagine what he was thinking—she had been in similar positions before. Merkowitz slowly turned around to face her once more.

"Oh, I have."


	4. Walls

Just a quick note to say that I hope the rating is acceptable. There will be violence and swearing throughout the story (though not gore or excessive cursing, I would say). That's my warning. Again, many thanks to Kathi-ann!!

Chapter Four: Walls...

Cho clenched his fists as he listened to the exchange between Merkowitz and Willowby. If that bastard laid a hand on Lisbon...

He took a deep breath and scrubbed a hand over his face, thinking. He knew that, if it came down to it, Lisbon would go pretty far to protect those hostages. This guy knew it, too. Knew Lisbon. Sure, it was a pretty good guess that a law enforcement officer would respond that way—call of duty and all—but to be so confident that she would give herself up for twenty-two people, that she would go even further to keep the other ten safe...well, it made Cho wonder. He felt his phone vibrate and answered.

After listening to Jane, he could feel the rage inside grow. No wonder he seemed to be able to predict her actions. He had been stalking her for three weeks. At least.

"Finish checking out the apartment and then get here. I think things are about to get ugly."

He hung up without giving them a chance to question him further. He didn't know what he would say if they did. How did one tell a friend that someone they both cared about was very likely going to be hurt soon?

Usually, Cho could say anything to anyone without getting too worked up. Informing families of deaths, arresting perpetrators, ruthlessly interrogating. Even in relation to the team, he was still pretty in control. It was just that this was _Lisbon_. The tough, no nonsense boss that led them anywhere. She always had their backs. And it killed him that he couldn't return the favor.

It wasn't often that she needed them. Her personality was such that one forgot that she was only human sometimes, that she too had feelings and insecurities. Not that she ever showed them—not at work. But he had seen the look on her face after certain cases. Cho knew that she wasn't as indomitable as she would have them all believe.

And _he_ wasn't as stoic as others thought. But he'd be damned if he'd let them know that.

Jane and Rigsby arrived just as Willowby tried once more to contact Merkowitz. They were now at the point where they were just trying not to inflame him, trying not to prod him into violence. But they needed to know what was happening inside. The rest of Willowby's unit was busy trying to get eyes and ears in the interior.

Jane froze at the sound of Merkowitz's voice. "Ah, Sergeant, you're just in time for the fun. There's a _boy_ here who thinks—well, that's the problem. He's thinking when he should be listening. Tsk, tsk. What shall we do with him?"

"Jack, you don't want to hurt those people. We can help you, but we need to talk this through." Willowby gripped the walkie talkie in his hand, his knuckles turning white. Jane felt dread well up inside. He was pretty sure that Willowby's use of words may not have been the best.

"You're correct, Sergeant. I don't want to hurt _these_ people. So, Teresa, shall we smack this kid around a bit, teach him not to speak unless spoken to? What do you think?"

Jane knew Lisbon well. Now that the attention was back on her, she would do her darnedest to keep it there, to keep this 'boy' safe. He felt helpless to stop it and a glance to Rigsby and Cho revealed their similar feelings. He heard her voice and tried to imagine where she was, if she was bound, if she was with the group or separate.

"Like you said, Jack. It's between us. Let's leave them out of it."

Jane marveled at her calm. How like her. He smiled wryly. The fury in Merkowitz's voice quickly cleansed his face. "Get up."

"Sergeant? You were wondering about my next demand? Well, I'm not quite sure yet, but I figure that I'll release a hostage for every fifteen minutes that Teresa can hold out. Now doesn't that sound fair?"

"Jack? Jack? Are you there? Don't do anything rash," Willowby's calm diminished a bit. He could tell that he was dealing with someone unpredictable, someone who really may not care about getting out of that bank. When there was no answer, he turned to one of his men. "I need to know what's happening in there and I need to know it _yesterday_."

"Yes, sir." There was a flurry of action from the members of SRU. Rigsby turned to Cho.

"What the hell? Did he mean what I think he meant?"

"Yes. He meant precisely what you thought he meant. Lisbon is not going to make it out of there unscathed unless some miracle frees them in the next ninety seconds." Jane answered instead of Cho.

In his pockets, Jane's hands were imagining that they were around the neck of the man inside the bank. It was really amazing that people like that—and there were many—could share a planet with one another. So often they were wont to blame others for what happened rather than take responsibility for their own actions and accept the consequences. Instead, rats like Merkowitz decided that everything bad in his life was because of someone else. In this case, because of Lisbon. Ridiculous.

Jane himself had once been a similar man—acting without thought of consequences. But, unlike Merkowitz, Jane knew that it was his own actions that had brought upon the worst day of his life. And it made him very angry to think about what those innocent people were going through, what _Lisbon_ was going through. Life was such a precious thing. And Merkowitz was threatening to _play_ with it, like this was all some big game. Like there weren't people who would miss his victims.

Jane knew that if he got his hands on Merkowitz he would want to do him harm. He wondered if that made him a hypocrite—saying life was precious, but having no qualms about extinguishing that of the scum who hurt the people he cared about. He thought that maybe he was, but he couldn't quite let himself care. He'd have to be careful, though. Lisbon would be pissed if she got out of there only to have Jane incarcerated for assault and battery. Or worse.

It really said something that Jane wanted nothing more than to have Lisbon pissed at him right now if it meant she were here to take out her anger on him. He'd willingly suffer any sort of torture she deemed fit.

If only she were here with him and not separated by bank walls and psychopaths.


	5. 15 Minutes

Okay, so this chapter gets more into creepy Merkowitz and his game with Lisbon. There will be a bit of violence, but hopefully nothing too disturbing. Sorry! Van Pelt will be in the next chapter, I promise! Trust me, she's been a busy bee. ;P Thanks to everyone for all of the reviews and again to Kathi-ann for the help!

Chapter Five: Fifteen Minutes

Lisbon stood, pretty sure what was coming. Merkowitz eyed her. "Walk forward. I want you to look in my eyes and know that I'm going to enjoy this."

She didn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her falter. Instead, she walked forward and stood in front of him, legs apart in a stance of authority. He moved forward, once again invading her personal space, watching her expression carefully. Obviously, he didn't find what he was looking for—the frustration on his face told her as much. He started circling her, making sure that he brushed against her with every rotation. He was trying to intimidate her.

Well, she had faced much worse. She could handle a little casual contact. She felt him stop behind her. The walkie talkie had since gone silent. Willowby had realized that Merkowitz was done talking for now. Lisbon would bet that they were trying to find a way to see and hear what was happening inside. From what she could tell, the far wall looked like their best bet—it was an exterior wall that formed the back of the building. Rather than brick like the majority of the structure, it looked to be made much thinner. She turned her focus back from the wall to Merkowitz when he spoke.

"Trying to be brave, Teresa? Yes, that seems like you. You think you're not afraid of me." In one quick movement, he kicked her legs from under here and she fell to her knees. Again, he took a fist full of her hair and leaned over, practically cheek to cheek with her from behind. "Look at all of those faces. They're scared. They're relying on you. And I could hurt any one of them at any time."

He turned his head into her, lips almost brushing her ear as he spoke again. "And _that_ is what scares you."

He was right. And that scared her even more. The hand in her hair gentled and slowly withdrew, dragging through her wavy dark locks. She felt him step back. Before she had a chance to brace herself, she felt a blow from the butt of his gun on the back of her head. The force of it caused her to hit the ground, bright lights blurring her vision. Yet, whether purposely or not, it didn't cause her to lose consciousness. She heard some scuffles from the others and the whimpers of the children. She wanted to look up and tell the mother to make sure to keep their eyes covered, but she discovered that the slightest movement made her head ache in agony.

"Get up." Merkowitz's voice was merciless. "Or are you done already? One hit and you're down?"

She heard the soft click of his shoes as he walked around her. His voice taunted her. "And here I expected more."

She remembered his words about the hostages. The longer she could sustain whatever he was planning, the more of them she could get out. Thus removing them from his line of fire. Besides, he was right. She was a CBI agent—couldn't she take more than one hit?

Putting her hands flat on the ground, she pushed herself up. She looked at the huddled group. The man who had irritated Merkowitz looked slightly sick, as if he thought he were to blame for her injury. She wished she could tell him that it wasn't his fault, that in Merkowitz's mind this situation had a predetermined outcome.

Then she wished she knew what that outcome was.

"Much better, Teresa." Merkowitz waited for her to stand and find some steadiness on her feet. "Now, I believe you only have twelve minutes until the first one is released. And, since you're being such a good sport, I'll even let you choose who that will be."

She should have expected it, but his monologue had made her a bit complacent. Even before he had finished speaking, he landed another blow, shoving her back against a desk from the momentum. In a normal situation, she would have fought back and in truth she found it hard to restrain her instincts.

"You want to fight back, don't you?" Merkowitz hit her again, this time in the face. She felt blood trickle down her chin. He turned his head to the others. "I hope you appreciate what the good agent is doing for you."

He wrapped a hand around Lisbon's throat and lifted her so they were eye to eye. His face was deathly serious. "I highly doubt that they do. How many of them do you think will remember you after six months? Huh? How many would remember you after seven _years_?"

He let her go abruptly and she lost her balance, falling heavily on her side. "I can tell you from experience: not many. It's a lot easier than you'd think to be forgotten."

He kicked her and she knew that if she didn't have a broken rib, it would surely be bruised. "Even the ones who claim to love you just sort of fade away after a while."

He paused, breathing heavily. She grabbed the edge of the desk to try to lift herself up, repeating her objective in her mind, focusing on the safety of the others. He seemed to come back to himself, to find a bit more control. Glancing at his watch, he spoke evenly as if they had been in conversation. "Look at that. Fifteen minutes."

Lisbon wanted to put a hand to her side, but refrained. Instead, she leaned back against the desk to catch her breath in this short interlude that she had been granted.

*******************************************************************************

Willowby's people had gotten a visual. They had very quietly and quickly drilled a small hole through the back wall, inserting fiber optic equipment that would allow them to see the main area of the bank.

What they had seen had chilled Jane. It was one thing to know what was happening and be helpless to stop it. He found that it was quite another to _watch _what was happening and have your hands figuratively tied. When Merkowitz stopped, he let out such a big breath that he almost wondered if he had held his breath for the last ten minutes. After every blow, Jane had mentally urged Lisbon to stay down, but true to her nature she had dragged herself back up.

He heard the static of Willowby's walkie signal contact with Merkowitz. "Well, Sergeant, Teresa has made her first buy. She's chosen a delightful little two year old girl. Don't bother asking what she used as payment."

Jane could have sworn that he heard Rigsby growl at the last sentence.

"Jack, listen to me. It's not too late. We can still work this out. All you have to do is let the people go. No one has to be hurt here," Willowby reverted to his calm, incessant attempts to barter. Jane knew that this man didn't want to barter.

"Ah, that's where you're wrong. You see, Teresa here just needs to understand." Jane's brow furrowed slightly. Understand what? His mental flags were sending up signals—certainly that was a sign, a bread crumb for Jane to follow. "But enough of that. I want you to send someone to the front door to get the girl. Unarmed. The slightest wrong movement and this sweet little child will be missing her brother for much longer than a few hours."

Though his threat to the other child was chilling, it was a little comforting at the same time. He didn't _plan_ to kill the children. That didn't mean he wouldn't, but at least it wasn't on the agenda. Willowby looked at his team. Merkowitz, impatient with the lack of a prompt response, continued. "Do you copy, Sergeant?"

"Yes, Jack. We understand. We'll send someone to pick up—" Willowby glanced at his notes— "Julia. Don't worry. No one is going to try anything. You don't need to hurt her brother Johnny."

Ah, yes. Put a name to the little children's faces, make it more difficult to hurt them. An old trick, but sometimes effective. Jane doubted that this man would care. He was too far gone. As soon as the line of communication was dead, he stepped up to Willowby.

"Send me in to pick up the girl."


	6. 135 Minutes

Thanks for all of the reviews and for sticking with the story! There's finally a bit of Van Pelt. Sorry, but the focus is shifting to Jane and Lisbon. sigh. I have not the willpower to hold out against Jisbon.

Chapter Six: 135 Minutes

Jane approached the doors of the building. It was strange how small details stuck in the mind during moments like this. Silly, inconsequential things such as how warm the sun felt on his neck. Wondering if he had locked his car door this morning.

He supposed it was an act ingrained in human nature as a way to show that the world went on even when your life was falling apart around you.

And if Lisbon didn't walk out of the doors, Jane was pretty sure his life would be in tatters. He had lived through losing those he loved once—he didn't know if he could do it again. At least, not if he wanted to keep hold of the man he was. It seemed every time he lost someone, he lost a bit more of his hold on himself. He sometimes wondered if his old friends would even know him anymore. He guessed that they would think they did, but it would be a shallow knowledge, merely surface deep.

They wouldn't truly understand him. Not like Lisbon did. He corrected his thoughts. Does. Like Lisbon _does_.

He stopped outside of the doors, squinting to see past the glare on the surface of the glass. He saw someone gesturing for him to come in and wondered if it was Merkowitz. Slowly, he opened the door and stepped in.

Even if Merkowitz hadn't had a gun, Jane would have spotted him right away. The man's gaze didn't leave Lisbon and Jane followed the line of sight to find his boss leaning heavily on a desk. Quickly, he assessed her physical situation. The slight hitch in her breathing made him wonder if she perhaps had a broken rib. His mind flashed back to seeing Merkowitz kick her while she was down and it was all he could do not to jump across the room at the man. On the outside, Jane exhibited no sign of anger or loss of control. Merkowitz's eyes flicked over to him before returning to Lisbon.

"Look, Teresa. They sent someone to pick up the girl." Merkowitz put a heavy hand on her shoulder, letting it rest there for a moment before sliding it caressingly down her arm to her elbow. Jane wanted to murder him for touching her like that. Merkowitz grasped her elbow hard enough to bruise it and shoved her forward. "Take the brat to him. I know you aren't stupid enough to try to make a break for it. I don't trust the others the same way."

Clearly, Merkowitz didn't recognize him. Jane had thought he would have since he had been stalking Lisbon, but apparently he was too obsessed with her to pay much attention to the others—or he was just woefully unobservant. Lisbon walked slowly but steadily to the mother, who pried her child away from from her body. "Go on, honey. Go with the nice man and woman now. Mommy will find you later."

The two year old sniffled and launched herself into Lisbon's arms. She caught the child, but failed to hold back a small grimace of pain. The mother watched Lisbon turn away and clutched her son to her. As Lisbon made her way to Jane, their eyes met and she felt as if they were having an unspoken conversation.

She was sure that his gaze was promising that he would get her out of there.

He knew that hers was begging him to be patient, to wait until the others were out.

While she was transferring the child to his arms, he discreetly grabbed her hand and gave it a soft caress. She looked a bit startled and he was glad that she was facing away from Merkowitz. Jane hardly ever touched her—something he always thought she appreciated. But now, he was sad that his touch surprised her even in a situation like this. As if she didn't expect him to show that amount of care. As if she would never expect that amount of care for herself.

He promised himself that, even if it made her uncomfortable, he would be sure to touch her as often as he wanted once this was over. Even if it was just to reassure himself, to remind himself that she was there. That she was okay.

But first he had to get her out of there. He gently rubbed the toddler's back as she burrowed into his neck. For a moment, the weight of the child brought him to another time. When he left Lisbon behind in that building and handed the girl off, his sense of loss was two-fold.

Cho and Willowby met him halfway. Jane didn't wait for their questions, but rather started speaking immediately. Time was of the essence. "She may have a broken rib, but the rest of the group seems unharmed. He seems fixated only on her."

Willowby let out a breath. "I sent her in there."

Jane looked at the man, surprised at the guilt he saw on his face. "You never asked her to go and, to be honest, you didn't have to. She takes her oath as an officer of the law very seriously—especially the 'to protect' part. That's what she's doing and what she'll continue to do."

As always, Jane's words did exactly what they were supposed to do. Cho had seen Jane inflame people's anger, calm it, suppress it, direct it—he had seen Jane manipulate people countless time, even himself. Yet even knowing this, even suspecting the manipulative calm behind Jane's words, Cho was somehow also calmed by the mentalist. If something happened to Lisbon, it would not be because her team had stopped trying to help her. Like their boss, they would give their all to protect not only those innocent lives, but also their own colleague. Willowby gave a short nod to Jane to show his appreciation. Cho cleared his throat, bringing matters back to business.

"Van Pelt is here. She's ready to brief you on pertinent aspects of Merkowitz's life." Both Jane and Willowby followed the expressionless Asian man to a bureau SUV.

Van Pelt looked up from her laptop (which rested on the hood of the vehicle) as they approached. Her eyes fixed on Jane. "You saw her? How is she?"

"A little bruised and battered, but standing strong," Jane replied, refusing to go into details. Van Pelt paused, scrutinizing his face. Rigsby had told her what they had seen and heard. She couldn't imagine what she would do in Lisbon's place. The idea of leaving herself to the mercy of a deranged man made her shudder. Equal rights and abilities aside, the fact remained that she and Lisbon were women and as such generally smaller and a bit more delicate than men. Lisbon was even shorter than herself, though it was often easy to forget her petite stature. Van Pelt didn't know if she'd be able to withstand an outright beating without giving in. She wondered if she would be as good an agent as Lisbon. She could only hope to live up to her boss' example. Van Pelt shook off thoughts of a hurt Lisbon and focused.

"Merkowitz left behind a fiance when he was incarcerated. Apparently the fiance stayed close for about nine months before suddenly breaking it off with Merkowitz and eloping with his best friend—the same guy that authorities suspected to also be involved, but could never substantiate a connection." Van Pelt laid out snapshots of each of the so-called characters in this charade. Jane made a humming sound, something that signaled to Cho and Van Pelt that thoughts were spinning about in his mind. "She happened to clear out most of the money from their joint account in the process of running off with her fiance's best friend."

"Nice," Cho said, dryly sarcastic. Van Pelt nodded.

"Yeah. Classy woman." She tucked the photos back into the files. "No other phone calls, visits, or generally any sort of contact since her. He has a sister in northern California, though nothing here shows that they're still in contact."

"Get her here as soon as you can, Van Pelt." Cho continued. "You know what I don't get? Why go after Lisbon? If my girl and my best friend hooked up, leaving me to rot in jail, I think they'd be the ones I'd go after."

"Ah, but that's just it," Jane pointed out, steepling his hands. "He doesn't blame _them_ for their actions. In his warped mind, it's Lisbon's fault for arresting him in the first place. Never mind the fact that, if she hadn't, someone else would have. Simply a case of Lisbon being in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Three faces watched him, waiting for him to continue. "I don't think he has any intention of letting Lisbon go. The others: maybe. Well, probably. You see, he doesn't think he's a particularly bad person and has no qualms with them as long as they stay quiet and obedient. His problem is with Lisbon. He's a man who thinks he has nothing left, nothing to live for, so he doesn't care if he goes down with her. But he plans to make her suffer first."

Jane tried his best to remain clinical about his outline of the situation. It was hard to talk about Lisbon as if she were just some stranger he didn't know. Especially when the words were so fatalistic. Van Pelt blinked. He knew she was trying to tell herself that Lisbon would come out of this. She took a step back as if she could distance herself from the harsh possibilities stacked before them. "I'll get the sister."

She left before anyone could respond. Jane hoped that she was fast. He saw Rigsby hurrying toward them and knew that it was happening again. Another fifteen minutes of hell.

Jane wondered how much pain a body could sustain before slipping into unconsciousness.

There were still nine hostages to go. One hundred and thirty five more minutes.


	7. Unreasonable

Sorry all, but there is some more violence in this chapter. I promise we're reaching the breaking point soon, though. Hang in there!

Chapter Seven: Unreasonable

Lisbon tried to focus as she led the little boy to Jane, but it was hard when her head was pounding and one eye was close to being swollen shut. She figured it _would_ be in another five minutes. She felt a little sick and hoped that she wouldn't throw up. She hated throwing up, hated losing control of her own body.

Hmm. Maybe Jane was right—maybe she was a bit of a control freak.

She was a little glad that she couldn't see Jane's face clearly. She was sure that he would look calm, but that his eyes would tell a different story. It was always the eyes. They were one of his major weapons and whether he knew it or not, she had a hard time resisting those blue eyes. She had the strange feeling that if she couldn't focus on his gaze then he couldn't 'read' her like he normally did. As it was, she hated him seeing her like this. Maybe it was a childish thought, but then she wasn't exactly clear headed at the moment.

As Jane led the boy out, she took a deep breath and turned around. Okay. Two down, eight to go. At least the children were gone. She planned to choose the mother next. It was hard, playing God, deciding who to set free. Of course the children had been the obvious choices for the first two. Lisbon knew that once she got to the adults it would be a bit more random. But children needed a mother.

That much she knew from personal experience. And she would make sure those two kids could be tucked in tonight by their mother.

*************************************************************************

Jane was practically shaking with suppressed fury as he met Cho once more. Lisbon's pale skin was turning black and blue from bruises, swelling in some areas, bleeding in others. He was afraid that the next time the damage would be worse. She was so delicate—how much stress could her bones take before they broke? How much could _she_ take before _she_ broke?

Rigsby, standing by Cho, looked as murderous as Jane felt. He had been there when the SRU finally got sound only to be greeted with Lisbon's involuntary cry of pain. It was a sound Rigsby hadn't heard before and never wanted to hear again, but one that he would never forget. Jane was silent as he walked past his two teammates, past Willowby. They were at a stalemate. The SRU had determined that there were no explosives in the building, but there was still no clear shot of Merkowitz. He was smart enough to not go near the doors. Even now, Willowby's team was discussing alternate possibilities.

Jane sat on the curb, leaning his elbows on his knees and putting his face in his hands. He had information on the perp. Normally he would be talking to the gunman, confidently getting himself into the bank to talk his way out of trouble. So why did he hesitate now?

Because it was one thing to risk his own life, but quite another to risk Lisbon's. It was harder to trust his abilities when he was so close to the victim. Jane thought absently that this must be why doctor's don't operate on their own family members. If he could exchange himself for her, he would do it in a heartbeat. But there was no way Merkowitz would give up Lisbon. He heard a car drive up, but ignored it. Over and over, he reviewed the information on Merkowitz and the details of the bank. So engrossed was he in his mental study that he didn't notice when two sets of feet appeared in front of him.

"Jane. This is Emily, Merkowitz's sister. She was in town for a conference and heard about the hostage situation. Apparently, the media has been reporting and they know exactly who is responsible." Van Pelt's words made him look up. She was a little surprised at his worn expression. She felt a cold chill. His face could only mean that things had only gotten worse. Jane stood.

"Hello, Emily." He took her hand—an act which admittedly startled the woman, but flustered her enough that she let him continue to hold it. "At this moment, a very good colleague of mine is in there sustaining torture from your brother under the watchful eyes of eight innocent bystanders. I need your help to stop that."

Emily's eyes filled with tears. "He's not a bad guy. He's just had some rough cards dealt to him. Really."

"Emily, look at me." Jane spoke earnestly. Van Pelt felt frozen, like she was part of a tableau in which she was invisible. Only Jane and Emily existed. "The man in there is not the man you used to know. He is not the boy who taught you to play basketball. Or the teen who gave you dandelions and told you everything would be okay when you were being picked on."

Emily's hand jerked within his hold. "How did you—"

He didn't let her finish. "Will you help those people, Emily? Will you help your brother? Because he is not planning on getting out of this."

A tear slid down her cheek as she nodded. "Just tell me what to do."

*****************************************************************************

"Poor Teresa. How different you look now with all of those ugly bruises marring that beautiful porcelain skin." Merkowitz ran a soothing hand over her forehead. "How much longer do you think you can last? Why are you giving these people so much? Look how easily you threw _me_ to the wolves."

She wanted to respond, to illustrate the differences between him and these people who had just been going about their day as normal. Criminals didn't deserve the protection of cops. She was a firm believer in taking responsibility for one's actions. She wanted to say all of this, but for some reason her tongue wouldn't listen to her. Just as well, though. She finally remembered that talking back would not be a good idea. No need to rile him up. He might take it out on the others. Besides, she seriously doubted that he was sane enough to see her logic anyway.

His hand disappeared from her head and there was a quick movement, followed by a snapping sound. She felt pain radiate up her left arm and was pretty sure that he had just broken her wrist. If she weren't so fuzzy-headed, she would be much more upset about that.

He leaned in close, his breath on her face. "It's not so fun when you start becoming numb. Maybe we should get another player for the game. I'm sure that will get a rise out of you."

Lisbon forced her head up, her eyes making contact with his. Just as she was about to speak, there was the crackle of static.

"Jack?"

A new voice, Lisbon noted distantly. Merkowitz stiffened and she felt him move away from her. Lisbon fell back against the desk, fighting to stay upright. The next fifteen minutes was almost up—she was sure of it. Her tormentor's voice spoke back into the walkie-talkie, uncertain.

"Emmy?"

"Oh, Jack. Why are you doing this?"

"Like you care. Where were you these last six years?" Merkowitz's voice gave away his bitterness. "You left me alone just like everyone else."

"Jack, no! Gigi told me to leave you alone. She said you didn't want to have anything to do with me now that you had gone to prison."

Whoever this person was, she was frantic to get through to Merkowitz. Lisbon knew she had to clear her head a bit. Something important was happening.

"That bitch! She wasn't happy just taking my money and our future. She had to ruin the one good thing that had always been there." Merkowitz was pacing, clearly agitated. Lisbon was glad that his attention was diverted though. She needed to recoup her energy. As best she could, she took in the distance from the doorway to the remaining hostages. Still too far to get them out safely. Her captor's voice turned sad, almost lonely. "I've missed you, Emily."

"I know, Jack. I'm sorry I listened to her. I should have known better. But, Jack, listen to me. You have to let those people go. They haven't hurt you."

There was silence and, even with her blurred vision, Lisbon could tell he was wavering. This woman had sway over him. She only hoped that it was enough to get through to him.

Her voice rang through the crackling connection once more. "Please, Jack."

He hung his head for a moment before turning around. "Fine. But only the eight. Teresa's staying with me."

Lisbon felt his piercing eyes on her once more.

"I'm not letting her go."


	8. Shattering

Beware of sticky situations and angst. But I promise it will get better. Thanks for all of the reviews!

P.S. What's up with all of the reruns? :(

Chapter Eight: Shattering

So far so good. Just like he planned. Jane only hoped it stayed that way.

Willowby took the walkie talkie from Emily. "Jack? We're going to send the same man who picked up the children to the door to guide the hostages to the right place."

Merkowitz's voice crackled back to them. "Try any funny business and one of them will die."

"We understand, Jack."

Willowby looked up at Jane and nodded. Briefly catching the eyes of the team, Jane gave a small smile and turned away.

Time to get to work.

**************************************************************************

Merkowitz turned to the man from earlier, the one he had called 'boy.' "You!"

The man jumped slightly before standing.

Merkowitz smirked. "Come here."

As the nervous man headed his way, Merkowitz then spoke to Lisbon. "Get up. You will go to the door and let the hostages out when that man returns. One by one."

She stood, wavering slightly on her feet. Merkowitz snarled at her and shoved her toward the entrance. "Go!"

Her path to the door was more stumbling than walking. Opening the glass, she flinched from the sunlight. If possible, the pain in her head worsened. God, it was like a million little men with bongos were having a playoff inside her skull. Or two Janes were trying to outsmart one another—something that would give anyone in a five mile radius a massive migraine. Ugh. Just the thought of _two_ Janes was daunting enough. She leaned her back heavily against the glass and looked out.

Speak of the devi—er, Jane. He was only steps away from her when she saw him pause. It was only split second, but she knew him well enough to know that her appearance must be really bad to cause him to show even a slight reaction. He was usually pretty masterful at hiding his reactions.

Using her uninjured hand, she motioned the first of the hostages to come forward. It was the mother, Lisbon noted with satisfaction.

One by one, the hostages piled out, each avoiding eye contact with Lisbon. She knew they felt guilty that they were leaving her behind. No, it wasn't even that. She knew that their guilt stemmed from their relief to be out of there while she had to be left behind. She had been on the job long enough to know that victims often had this survivor's guilt—a guilt for living when others had not. She rather thought that Jane had a bit of it. Of course his guilt was not quite so straightforward, but mixed with a lot of other things. How sad that it was the innocent, good people who felt guilt for what was someone else's fault.

Soon, the only hostage left was the one by Merkowitz. "Okay, Teresa. Come back over here and we'll let this little fellow go it alone."

Still silent, she complied. Soon it would be her and Merkowitz alone. Once that happened, she was pretty sure he was going to take her out. She would fight him with everything she had, but after the last half hour, she just felt so tired. She didn't know how much fight she had left—she suspected that her 'everything' had depleted to pretty much nothing.

Jane held the door open for the last hostage. As soon as the man was out of sight, Jane slipped into the bank. Merkowitz jerked to attention, pointing the gun first at Jane before swinging it to Lisbon. "What the hell is going on here? I thought there would be no funny business."

Lisbon froze. Why hadn't he just left with the others? She didn't want to have to worry about someone else any more. Especially not Jane. She didn't know what she'd do if something happened to him. Sure, she could live without Jane, but she knew that something inside of her would die with him. If her face wasn't so stiff and sore, she would frown. Maybe Jane _had_ been in her brain, reading it. The cocky smart-ass had probably somehow connected their brains to make her feel this way.

She stopped her thoughts. Yup, she was definitely out of it. She had just entertained thoughts not only about Jane being psychic, but about him creating some kind of _spiritual_ link between them. That blow to the head had screwed her up more than she had thought. Jane could _never_ find out this. He would laugh himself off his damn couch.

Merkowitz's gun pointed back to Jane as the consultant responded. "Believe me, Jack. There is nothing funny about this."

He smoothly took a single step forward, speaking very calmly. "It's over, Jack. Even if you kill Lisbon and shoot me, it will be over. You'll go back to prison."

Merkowitz practically gnashed his teeth at the blond man. "You think I won't anyway? Right. I wasn't born yesterday."

"Yes, you will be tried and convicted for this, I'm sure. But California has the death penalty. And I can assure you that if you hurt Lisbon, her team will push for the maximum punishment. DAs aren't big fans of cop killers," Jane finished up with a little shrug.

Merkowitz became eerily calm. "I wasn't planning on getting out of this alive."

He took a step closer to Lisbon. Jane felt a tremor. _Not_ what he was going for.

Emily's voice sliced through the air. "Jack, please. I need you here. I _need_ you. You're my brother."

Merkowitz stilled. "She can hear me?"

Jane pulled back his suit jacket, revealing a small yet noticeable wire. "Every word."

"I'm sorry, Emmy. She ruined my life. I lost _everything_ because of her." He pointed the gun at Lisbon, who stood frozen in her spot. She wondered how everything had spiraled out of control like this. She couldn't think of a way to get Jane out, to get herself out. She had always known that her death could possibly come from a situation like this, but she had hoped that she wouldn't go out feeling like a failure. In the end, she couldn't save Jane. She hadn't been able to uphold her oath to protect.

"You're a coward, Jack." Jane's voice was filled with an intensity and loathing that Lisbon knew was reserved only for those he viewed with contempt. "A sniveling worm of a man—if one can even call you that. You blame Lisbon for your sad little life when it was you who made the choices that led to it. You lament the lack of respect and love in your life, but what have you done to deserve it?"

Merkowitz's hand shook. "Shut up!"

Jane knew that his choices were up. The plan had ceased working. The only chance they had now was to divert his attention from Lisbon, to perhaps draw him to the windows. But Merkowitz was smart. Unless his instability was provoked, he would never make such a grievous mistake.

"That's why you simultaneously love and loath Lisbon. You see that she has worth and you envy it. Why can't anyone find that in you?"

"Shut the hell up." Merkowitz's voice trembled with emotion.

"They can't find it because there is none. There won't be until you man up and take responsibility for yourself." Jane looked at the man in disgust. "Until then, you're simply a miserable piece of trash to be discarded or forgotten—someone that leaves one wanting to wash themselves of any trace of your existence."

Merkowitz finally lost control and charged at Jane, forgetting his gun in his rage. His immediate anger brought on a more primal urge to hurt Jane with his bare hands. Lisbon, ignoring her injuries, tackled him. Jane started forward anxiously only to see Lisbon skid across the floor and Merkowitz hop up, gun moving frenetically between Jane and Lisbon. Jane stepped toward his battered friend and carefully, slowly, helped her up. She felt small beneath his hands and he worried about where to hold her so he wouldn't hurt her further. There was deep-seated rage in his gaze as he watched Merkowitz—along with an insolence that almost dared the crazed man to use his weapon.

"None of you understand. None! It wasn't supposed to turn out like this. _Life_ wasn't supposed to turn out like this." The words spilled from Merkowitz in an emotional tumble. Lisbon watched him.

"It never is," she agreed solemnly. Both men looked at her and it was the hint of understanding on her face that pushed Merkowitz over the edge.

Growling, incensed that she would pretend to care, his finger moved to pull the trigger. A shot rang out before Jane could grab Lisbon's arm to push her to the ground underneath him. The three figures froze. Jane frantically looked Lisbon over, but she met his gaze reassuringly. He sighed. "Thank God."

"Who?" Lisbon teased tiredly, quietly. Jane made a face at her.

"Figure of speech."

A gurgling sound brought them out of their world. Merkowitz seemed suspended in air, shocked at the blood that poured from his torso. And then many things happened at once.

Merkowitz started falling to the ground and Jane turned his head to see officials heading toward the bank entrance, ready to swarm the place. Turning back to the scene in the interior, he saw the gun slip from Merkowitz's hand and cringed.

Lisbon had told him time and again that dropped guns were always a hazard. For the first time in a long time, he prayed to anyone who would listen that it wouldn't go off as it hit the ground.

Jane figured there wasn't a God because a second gunshot rang through the air and he felt Lisbon jerk back as if she were a puppet being tugged by a string.

It was all he could do to catch her body and ease her slowly to the floor. Dimly, he registered the cops swarming and the call for paramedics (they would need two gurneys now). The crunch of broken glass underneath their feet as they entered. The static of the walkie talkie as Emily called out for her brother. The fragility of Lisbon's small body against the cool floor of the bank.

No, Jane thought as he put a hand over Lisbon's wound, feeling her warm blood make his fingers sticky and wet. He was positive that there wasn't a God because there was no way someone was cruel enough to put him through this a second time.

Jane was sure that, among the myriad of sounds around him, he could hear the distinct sound of his damaged heart shattering.


	9. Back and Forth

This is an early post since tomorrow is insanely busy for me. Also, I noticed that there are now even _more _Lisbon hostage situation fics. lol. It's a trend, apparently. Poor Lisbon. Just so you know, there will be a few more chapters after this one.

Chapter Nine: Back and Forth

Rigsby and Cho had to haul Jane away from Lisbon so the paramedics could get to her—a task which was harder than they expected. Van Pelt stood a few feet away, not sure what to do.

Lisbon's face was hardly recognizable under the bruises and blood, disfigured from the swelling. Blood pooled on the ground around her. The paramedics worked quickly and efficiently. Jane had stopped struggling and stood between the two men, looking almost catatonic. Van Pelt wanted to speak, to tell him it would be okay, but she couldn't get anything around the lump in her throat. She walked up to her colleagues and slipped her hand into Jane's, knowing he needed the support.

He didn't acknowledge her touch. Rigsby put a hand on Jane's shoulder and squeezed. Slowly, Jane turned his head to the tall man. Rigsby didn't know _what_ he had expected, but the look on his friend's face was heartbreaking. Cho, standing stiffly with his hands in his pockets, spoke.

"Let's get to the hospital."

Cho turned to go to the car and Jane jumped into action, following. They all climbed into the bureau car—Cho driving with Jane in the passenger seat. As soon as Rigsby and Van Pelt were seated in the back, Rigsby reached over to grasp her hand. She looked up into his face.

"She's going to be okay," Rigsby said urgently. "This is Lisbon."

Van Pelt gave him a watery smile. Though upset, Jane gave a ghost of a smile at Rigsby's words. Lisbon _was_ a fighter. She wasn't gone yet. There was still a chance. He wasn't going to give up on her. He glanced to Cho, who was staring straight ahead. Jane noticed that his hands were clenched on the wheel so tightly that his knuckles were white. Jane knew that nothing he could say would help because there were no words that would alleviate _Jane's _own worry save a very few—and every one of those words had to do with Lisbon being okay. Jane was no doctor, but he knew that Lisbon was very weak and there had been so much blood. For a moment, he was taken back to another time, but he ruthlessly cut off his train of thought. No. It couldn't happen. Not again. He looked down at his hands, covered in blood. How ironic.

Once they arrived at the hospital, they waited for hours, occasionally receiving updates on her condition. Finally, they were told that Lisbon was stable and should be alright. She had a lot of healing to do, though. A lot.

She had sustained a broken rib and a few bruised ones, a broken wrist, a gunshot wound, and several blows and bruises. She wasn't allowed visitors for another few hours. The doctor recommended that they go home, clean up and come back. They thanked her and she turned to move on to her next patient. At the door, the doctor glanced back bemusedly. All four of them had settled into the chairs of the waiting room, likely to wait until the moment they could be with their boss. Their friend.

Figures. Cops were stubborn.

**************************************************************************

Lisbon had been in and out of consciousness since they had been allowed to see her, but even when she was awake she had been pretty out of it due to the pain medication. Jane hadn't left her side, holding the hand of her uninjured arm. Members of the team had been in and out of the room before the nurses had laid down the law: no more visitors until the next morning. Jane wasn't sure what Cho had said to them, but somehow Jane had been left alone in her room. Just as well. There was no way in hell he was leaving Lisbon's side. The dark of night had long since descended when Lisbon's hand twitched within his.

He looked up to see her looking at him in the dim light from the bedside table.

"Jane?" Her voice was rough, scratchy. "Where are we? Hospital?"

He nodded, not quite trusting himself to speak yet.

"Everyone okay?" She continued. Jane's face was solemn. How like her to worry.

"Everyone but you," he answered. A thought hit him. "Oh, right. And Merkowitz."

"They got him?" Unconsciously, his thumb repetitiously swept past her knuckles gently. Back and forth. Back and forth. She had forgotten how soothing human touch could be. For a moment, she remembered the feel of Merkowitz's hands on her, running from her shoulder to elbow, in her hair. She pushed that thought away and focused once more on Jane's caress.

"Yes, He'll live. Unfortunately," Jane said, a hard glint in his eyes. Lisbon sighed. Great. One more person for Jane to direct his vengeance toward. She carefully gave a shake of her head.

"I'm glad," she answered back. He raised a brow, surprised. He knew she wasn't malicious, but the man was a sick bastard who had caused her so much pain. Lisbon had known Jane long enough to tell that he didn't understand. "I'm glad that no one died because of me. No one. I've gone through that and, if possible, hope to avoid it as much as I can."

Jane thought this over. He had never killed anyone—not for lack of desire; he just had difficulty finding his prey—but he knew that Lisbon had done so in the line of duty. She had a strict sense of what justice was and she was true to that, true to herself. He supposed he couldn't fault her for that. And he wouldn't—even if they someday found themselves at odds over Red John. He wasn't sure what he planned to do then. He once thought that he would do _anything _for his revenge, but now he wasn't so sure. He couldn't ever hurt her. Not physically or emotionally.

He stared at her face without speaking. Finally, she grew uncomfortable and shifted about on the bed. "Why are you looking at me like that? Believe me, I know how awful I look."

Slowly, a smile grew on his face, turning into his famous hundred watt grin. She was here with him. She was alive.

"Lisbon, you've never looked better to me."


	10. Rise and Fall

Getting close to the end now! Two or three more, which I'm still working on.

Chapter Ten: Rise and Fall

Minelli had been pissed. If Jane remembered correctly, his exact words had been: '_What the hell? I thought I told her to be back here today! Instead, she gets herself shot!'_

And underneath that, a note of concern. Minelli had gruffly ordered Jane to tell Lisbon not to be back until she had the doctor's okay. Cho would take care of things until her return. _'I don't need her fainting on the job. Liability.'_

Cho had taken care of the office. Jane had taken care of Lisbon.

Lisbon knew that the team had been worried. That first morning, the team had shown up and camped out in her room for a few hours. Van Pelt and Rigsby filled her in on what had happened to Merkowitz, with Jane interjecting comments here and there. Merkowitz was still in the hospital under police supervision, but would heal. Then he would be booked and tried. No one doubted that he would end up back in prison. Lisbon wondered if his sister would be able to help him with his bitterness. She hoped so. She didn't want to go through this again in another seven years.

Cho had been silent—even more so than usual. When conversation lulled, Rigsby stood. "Well, we better get back to the office. See you later, boss."

Van Pelt nodded and stood as well. Jane hopped to his feet, playfully energetic once again. Van Pelt couldn't believe how different he was from the Jane she had seen yesterday standing forlornly in the bank. "I'll walk you two out."

Jane escorted them through the door, leaving Cho with Lisbon. She looked over to her senior agent, meeting his solemn gaze. Cho's expression was deadpan as usual, but she had been working with him longer than anyone and knew that this whole fiasco had shaken him. She always strove to keep up a strong facade in front of her team and yesterday that facade had been spectacularly shattered.

"Glad you're alright, boss."

She smiled, ignoring the way it tugged at her split lip. "Thanks, Cho. From what I hear, you did a great job as 'boss' yourself."

"Yeah, well, I'm not looking for an application _or_ another chance to test that," Cho answered. Lisbon nodded. She didn't need to be Jane to read between the lines. "Brave thing you did."

She looked up in surprise. It wasn't very often that Cho handed out compliments. And she wasn't so sure she deserved this one. She snorted derisively, sarcastically. "Yeah, letting him beat the shit out of me. Really showed off my skills."

He held her gaze. "Fighting back is easy. It's what we're trained to do. Sitting there and taking it for the good of others is not so easy."

Her throat felt tight as she saw the images of those whimpering children clinging to their mother. She herself had been helpless. Her mind's eye saw Merkowitz running for Jane. No matter what Cho said, she still felt as though she could have said something, _done_ something more. Cho walked toward the door.

"I'm not sure I could have done the same and _that's_ why you're the boss."

He was out the door before she could respond. Not that she would have. She stared at the wall ahead, trying not to think. She hadn't noticed the figure in the doorway. He watched her, content to simply fill his vision with her. To just see her breath.

And, after that, he had done the same every night, coming in after she had fallen asleep and leaving before she awoke only to return once more in the morning. The soft in and out of her breathing was more soothing to him than even the faded brown leather couch at the office. Sitting by her bedside, he felt relaxed enough to drift off. Yet he couldn't. Sleep just didn't measure up to being able to see the rise and fall of her chest—proof that she wasn't going anywhere.

***************************************************************************

Jane knew Lisbon was frustrated with being stuck in the hospital until they decided to discharge her. Unsurprisingly, she was a much better patient than he. Calm and obedient when it came to the doctors and nurses.

Not so much when it came to him. She complained that he hovered. Two days into it, she had all but ordered him back to his couch at CBI headquarters.

"Go irritate _them_."

He took great pleasure in telling her that she was on medical leave and since Cho was the acting boss, Jane did not need to heed her orders. She scowled. Well, until she realized that a scowl stretched muscles in her face that were very sore from her beating. Her small groan of pain turned Jane's triumphant grin into a glare, something he only realized once she spoke. Her voice was soft as she reached out with her free hand, grasping his hand gently for a split second before withdrawing. She was never very comfortable with initiating contact between them.

"Hey. It doesn't really hurt that much. Power down on the fierceness, okay?"

He smiled sheepishly and pulled out a coin to show her yet another 'magic' trick. Much to her chagrin. She rolled her eyes and leaned back against her pillows, wondering if it would be an obvious escape to pretend to fall alseep in the next few minutes.

"If you fake sleep right now, Lisbon, I won't eat the peas from your tray anymore," Jane threatened. Lisbon shuddered. She had a nurse who was particularly pressing, insisting that she had to eat _everything_ in order to get back on her feet. Even disgusting canned peas.

"Fine." She reluctantly watched—and, under pressure, participated in—his latest trick. That night as he sat next to her, Jane couldn't divert his thoughts from her expression of pain. He missed her scowl. It was cute—probably one of the reasons he liked to rile her up. She had a wonderful angry face. Actually, she had a wonderful face in general. He gazed at her, noticing that her left brow was remarkably unmarred—a contrast to the rest of her visage. He couldn't resist reaching out and running a gentle finger across it. The feel of her beneath his touch felt good. Felt right. Yes. He was going to touch Lisbon whenever he felt the urge. If the last few days had shown him anything, it was that life was short. Too short to not give in to urges like this.

If he had to make her uncomfortable every once in a while so that he could feel _alive, _feel _her_ alive_, _then so be it.

But he noticed something curious over the next week. Just once, Jane had slipped and called her 'Teresa.' Only once, but he had seen her body jerk a bit. She had recovered very quickly, but to Jane it had been like a flare sent flying into the sky. Lisbon presented herself to everyone as a competent, cool agent who had done what needed to be done. End of story.

Except it wasn't. And Jane needed to figure out how to reopen the book so they could really put it to bed. Lisbon was intensely closed off about her personal life. A lot of her life was still a mystery to him. Not by choice (at least, not his), but simply because she was not the type to open herself. Especially to him. Despite their talk on trust, Jane knew that in the heat of the moment, Lisbon trusted him professionally. Trusted him to have her back. But personally...

It wouldn't be easy to get her to talk, but Jane just couldn't seem to let it go. Sure, Lisbon could probably bury it and get on with her life. But Jane couldn't stand the thought of her carrying something of Merkowitz with her.

He wondered if maybe he needed the closure more than she did.

He was certainly a living testimony that closure was hard to come by.


	11. Tears

Sorry about the delay in this chapter. I'm working on what will probably be the next chapter. Hopefully I'll be able to finish it soon. Okay, this may get a bit mushy, but I needed it after all the stress of the story so far, not to mention RL. : ) Yay! We're almost done!!

Chapter Eleven: Tears

Lisbon was going home today. Finally.

Finally, she would get some peace and quiet. Some privacy. She had arranged for Cho to take her home, though she had to admit she had expected Jane to put up more of a fuss. He had acquiesced to her request, simply smiling benignly. She should have been suspicious then.

Lisbon hadn't seen Jane at the hospital that morning, which was strange, but she thought that since he knew she was going home perhaps he had elected to go into work today. She didn't ask and she certainly wasn't going to call him.

If she had to sit through one more of his 'tricks' then she was not going to be able to control herself. Jane would be sporting an arm cast very similar to the one adorning her own wrist.

When they reached her apartment, Cho helped her bring her small overnight bag in. He stood a little awkwardly by the front door, though his expression did not belie any discomfort. "Need anything else, boss?"

She put a hand on the back of the couch. "No. Thanks, Cho."

He nodded once and opened the door. "See you next week."

He closed the door behind him and she rounded the couch, sinking into the cushions. Wow. She was more tired than she expected. Damn. She hated being injured. And she still had a whole week until she could even return to work. She sighed, leaning her head back.

At least she was finally alone. Ah, wonderful, wonderful solitude. Peace. Quiet. Priva—

"Want a cup of tea, Lisbon?"

Or not. She didn't move. "Jane. What are you doing in my apartment?"

"Boiling water for tea," he answered as if it were obvious. She looked at him then. He leaned against the doorway to her kitchen. God, he must have been the sneakiest child ever...it was so embarrassing to have a civilian get the drop on her, a CBI agent. She contented herself with the justification that he _was_ a mentalist. You know, special abilities and all.

She decided that he wouldn't answer her question even if she rephrased it so she let it pass, accepting her fate. When she thought past her irritation at having Jane as a constant (really, really constant) companion, she realized that it just showed how worried he had been. After all, if Lisbon ever had the chance to see her mother alive again, she would be glued to her side for days. At least.

She figured it was something like that.

"Sure. I'll have a cup of tea."

He disappeared into the kitchen and she could hear the soft sounds of cabinet doors opening and teacups clinking. Teacups? Since when did she own any teacups or even mugs for that matter?

As he reentered the room holding two cups (on saucers, no less), he caught her slightly perplexed look and grinned. "I brought my own."

She didn't answer as she accepted a cup of steaming liquid and took a sip. He sat in an armchair across from her, staring at her face. She ignored him until her drink was cool. She then set the cup and saucer down on the coffee table. "Yes, Jane?"

"Nothing at all," he answered calmly. He gave her a smile, yet didn't remove his gaze from her. She rolled her eyes.

"If it's nothing, then why are you staring?" She sat back again. He carefully set his cup on his saucer, finally removing his eyes from her. He, too, set his drink on the table in front of him. He looked up at her speculatively. With a great willpower, she refrained from tensing up. Speculative was never a good look on him. It meant he was up do something.

"I'm staring, _Teresa_," he emphasized her name lightly, "because it is good to see you."

She couldn't help the fact that her muscles seized slightly when he said her name, her brain automatically remembering the way it had sounded coming from Merkowitz. Silly, really. It was completely different. From Jane, it sounded easy and comfortable—not condescension laced with false congeniality. She knew she'd be over it soon. It was just that it was so...recent. Lost in these thoughts, she didn't notice Jane lean forward to examine her expression.

"I can make it go away." At his words, her eyes flew to his. He looked a little unsure for once, which surprised her. She raised a brow in question. "I can make you stop associating your name with him."

She should have known he would notice. She didn't doubt that he could, but she didn't want that. She had always been on her own, fixing things for herself. If she let him do his thing—hypnotize her or whatever—then she would always doubt her own ability to cope. She shook her head. "No. I—I don't want that."

Was it just her or did his expression fall just a bit? She continued. "Thanks, though. I know you could. It's just...well, I don't need to hide from myself. I don't want to."

His understanding nod stopped at her next words.

"I can do it alone."

"But you're not alone," he said as he reached for her hand, ignoring her startled look and giving it a soft squeeze. "Teresa."

This time she didn't jump. No one had told her that in a very long time. She sat still, unsure of how to respond. Not knowing if she needed or wanted the help of anyone else, of Jane. He sat there waiting, patient. She felt his thumb brush over her knuckles again and was brought back to that night in the hospital. Back and forth. Back and forth.

Suddenly her decision was clear. She had had years of doing it alone.

"I couldn't save you." She pulled her hand away. She didn't know what she had planned to say, but she was pretty sure that wasn't it. Jane looked confused.

"Um, Lisbon? I'm alive. I'm here. You tackled him when he came after me, remember?"

She laughed humorlessly. "Before that, before you tricked him into going toward you, toward the window. You were there in the bank with me and I was just too _tired_. I couldn't think of a way to get us out, get you out. It's not supposed to happen like that. If it hadn't been for you, we'd probably both be dead. I failed. I'm supposed to serve and protect. _Protect_, Jane."

Her voice became increasingly agitated as she spoke. She stood and walked to the window without waiting to see his reaction, without waiting to hear his reaction. There was silence for a few minutes.

She jumped as warm hands settled onto her shoulders from behind. Her head dropped, chin against her chest and eyes closed. "Merkowitz was right. If he had wanted to hurt those people, he could have. And I couldn't have stopped him."

At the sound of Merkowitz's name, she felt a change in the feel of Jane's touch. It was almost an unnatural stillness within him. She wondered how she could sense that without looking at him. She figured it was his silence. After all, he was hardly silent around her unless it was to irritate her.

Finally, he spoke. "Maybe you wouldn't have been able to stop him. You would have tried, though. You did everything in your power to keep them safe. To keep me safe. _I_ chose to enter the bank. You saved all of the others. Even if something had happened to me, it would have been because I took the risk."

His words helped a little. She pulled away and tried to pass him, tried to return to the couch. He grabbed her hand once more and she froze as he spoke.

"Why do you keep doing that? Pulling away from me," Jane elaborated. A crease appeared between her brows.

"Why do you keep touching me?" She countered, shifting uncomfortably. He turned toward her fully.

"Because I can." He smiled. "Because I want to."

Not knowing what to say and feeling her cheeks warm a bit, Lisbon pulled away yet again, retreating to the couch. "Oh."

He stood there. By rights, he should be looking awkward there in the middle of her living room. Instead, he looked at ease, like he belonged there. In her home. That was a dangerous thought.

Without speaking, he grabbed the cups full of tepid tea and put them in the kitchen. Once finished, he headed to the door. She knew he would be leaving for the night and wasn't sure what to make of the conflicting feelings inside of her. She was both relieved and disappointed.

He paused after opening the door. "You're wrong, Lisbon. Teresa. You _have_ saved me. I never expected it. I didn't even want it, really, was never looking for it. But you did. Only you."

She knew they weren't talking about the bank anymore. He left, shutting the door on his way out. She didn't think she was quite ready to let herself think about his words. About what they meant for him. For them. When he shut the door, she didn't move. Her apartment was still for a long time.

And even when the sun had gone down, the only movement within was the persistent trail of tears down her cheeks.

She hadn't cried in years.

She had heard it was supposed to be cathartic.

Leaning back against her couch, her vision blurred by fluid and darkness, she thought that it just might be.


	12. One to Fourteen

Sorry about the delay _again_! I can't believe how behind I'm getting with this story, but it seems to just keep growing. Sorry!

Chapter Twelve: One to Fourteen

It had been a few weeks now. Lisbon had healed (well, for the most part) thanks to a good physical therapy program. After she had returned home from the hospital, Jane had made daily visits to her apartment. He seemed to pop up everywhere. And she had noticed that he touched her pretty often. Not excessively—well, not to most people—but to her it seemed to be an inordinate amount of unnecessary contact.

Brushing by her as he passed. Taking her hand for a quick squeeze. Brushing her hair out of her face. A hand on the small of her back to guide her through doors.

Small things, really.

And yet, not small at all.

The last time she had asked him why he kept touching her, they had been drawn down a path that had led to an awkward confession. Okay, maybe the awkwardness was one-sided. _He_ seemed perfectly content with sharing it with her. Lisbon knew that he sometimes wanted to bring it up again, to discuss it further, but she studiously acted like he hadn't said a thing at her apartment.

Like he hadn't told her that she had saved him.

On the outside, life went on unchanged. Every night, though, she replayed his words while trying to fall asleep. Lisbon knew that it had been bad for him when his family was murdered—very bad. Understandable. Recently, though, it seemed that he had a lightness that hadn't been there before. Oddly enough, it seemed coupled with a sort of watchfulness different from his norm. Yes, he was always observant—it wasn't really something he could turn off—but she had realized throughout the last week that he always knew where she was. Always. Even if it seemed he had been asleep on the couch all morning, he could direct someone to her in the conference room. Even if she was sure he hadn't seen her go into it.

Lisbon wasn't sure it was exactly healthy to keep such close tabs on your boss, but he seemed almost...well, almost happy lately. And not the cheerful facade he put on for the world, but truly content. She wondered if this inner change had anything to do with his words. It was daunting to imagine that she played any part in bringing Jane back from his world of despair and vengeance, but she couldn't discount his words.

She just didn't know where to go from there.

God, she sucked at this. This girly, emotional stuff. If she could take this weird, awkward issue between them out back behind the office building to shoot it and just be done with it, she would. She was a crack shot. Problem would thus be solved.

Unfortunately, said problem was intangible, falling under the realm of girly, emotional stuff. Which, as aforementioned, she sucked at. Royally.

She blamed it on the fact that she didn't have any sisters.

So she continued to ignore it—rule fourteen on her list of how to deal with awkward situations (the first thirteen involved guns, avoidance, and bossiness; none of which ever seemed to work with Jane). She still slipped a little avoidance in here and there (it was a solid strategy sometimes, after all). Like tonight. Headquarters was dark. She had ensconced herself in her office to take care of paperwork, waiting in the hopes that everyone (including Jane) would go home for the night and she could make a clean getaway.

She set down her pen and rubbed her eyes, needing a break from staring at the small type of the form in front of her. Sitting back, she caught sight of an unfamiliar manila envelope on her filing cabinet. Leaning as far she could to grab it (she _really_ didn't feel like getting up yet), she noticed a small, folded piece of paper on top.

_Lisbon_.

Hmm. Finally snagging it, she set the envelope in her lap and opened the note. It was from Rigsby, letting her know that an agent from evidence needed the agent in charge to sign off on the contents of the envelope so it could be put in the closed files. She opened the flap and poured the contents onto her desk. What seemed to be a huge collection of photographs spilled out facing down and, before she could catch them, a few slid off her desk to land on the floor in front of it.

Damn. Now she had to get up. Grumbling inaudibly, she stood and practically stalked around her desk. She stooped to pick up the offending photos when she realized that it was her face staring back at her from each of the five prints on the ground. Freezing with her hand outstretched toward one, she remembered the team talking about Merkowitz's apartment. These were the photographs he had taken of her. For weeks. She pulled her hand back, staring at them. They depicted her doing various things—in her car, unlocking her apartment door, _here_ in her office. Her hand clenched into a fist. And she had been blithely unaware.

This envelope had been meant for Cho, the agent who had been in charge for this case. Not for her. It was a clerical mistake that allowed to see just how much her privacy had been invaded. Hell, she hated when Jane got too close let alone some crazy stranger.

She didn't know how long she sat there, stooped in front of her desk and staring at her photos on the floor. Suddenly a set of hands joined the prints, scooping them up efficiently. She looked up into the closed face of her consultant.

Figures. Of course he hadn't gone home yet.

Mission: avoid. Result: failed.

But she couldn't seem to care. She was glad that he had picked up the photos. It was as if they had held her under a spell, unable to look away, unable to stop thinking about them. Jane silently slid the photos back into the envelope.

"I'll go put this on Cho's desk."

By the time he got back, she had stood, but had made no move toward her chair. He stood in front of her, examining her expression. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Lisbon leaned back against her desk.

"Easy to forget that some psycho got the drop on you when you don't see the evidence," she admitted. "A little harder to disregard now."

Her gaze moved to the ceiling, contemplating her next words. "He was at my apartment, Jane. My home. And I never knew."

He didn't answer and she looked back to him, finding his startlingly blue eyes trained on her with an intensity that almost made her shiver. Without warning, he reached forward to grasp her upper arms and pull her to him. She tensed for a minute, but as his arms circled her she leaned her forehead against his chest, letting out a deep sigh.

His hands moved on her back, establishing a comforting motion. When he spoke, she could almost feel the words coming from his chest. "It's just a place. This so-called 'home' is an illusion of privacy, if you will. Simply a vessel that is empty without you. Without those you love."

She thought about Jane's house. She had seen it only once, briefly. The first floor (the only area of the house she'd been in) had been empty, devoid of any furnishings except a single table by the front door where Jane dropped his keys, wallet, etc. It was a shell. His family had been taken from it and the house had lost its ability to be a home for him.

What was truly important to her wasn't housed in within the walls of her apartment. Her family, her friends. No, she realized, it didn't matter that Merkowitz had been there. What really bothered her was that he had followed her, that he could have figured out who she cared about. He could have hurt her far worse by harming them. And _that's_ why she was upset at the evidence of his stalking.

Trust Jane to understand her better than she understood herself. Lisbon wrapped her arms around him and gave a light squeeze before pulling away. He willingly let her go and she leaned back against the desk.

"Thank you, Jane." He smiled at her words.

"My pleasure, Lisbon," he replied and, for some reason, she blushed at his words—at the implication that he liked holding her, comforting her. His smile grew as he raised a brow and ran a finger down her heated cheek. "Embarrassed at our intimacy?"

At his words, her head jerked away from his touch. "What intimacy? There is no intimacy."

He laughed. "How many other times have you let your agents, your coworkers, hold you?"

She glared at him. "Just because I can't think of an instance doesn't mean I wouldn't. Doesn't mean that you get special treatment."

"Oh, really?" He teased. "So you'd let Rigsby put his arms around you for more than a quick hug?"

Her glare disappeared as she laughed, mentally picturing the scene. "Rigsby is far too afraid of me for that to ever be a concern."

Jane grinned at her laughter, happy to be part of the cause. "True. Still, I'm different with you. And you're different with me."

She grew silent once more. It seemed the time had come where he wouldn't let her evade anymore. Rule fourteen had ceased being effective. Her shoulders sagged a bit and Jane found himself amused.

This woman could face down crazies with a gun and a vendetta. She could tackle men twice her size. She could taser unruly suspects without batting an eye.

But the hint of a personal conversation (one likely involving feelings) and she wilted visibly—if she hadn't already instituted one of her crazy (yet prized) rules that she had created to deal with awkward situations.

Ah, well. Jane reached for her hand.

He figured he could beat rules one to fourteen into submission.


	13. The Fifteenth

Okay, this is possibly too mushy, but I don't care anymore! I suspect I made it far too sweet because I am watching the depressing (yet touching) Hallmark movie on CBS: _The Courageous Heart of Irina Sendler_ (or something like that) and needed happy resolutions. Takes place directly following the last chapter. It's finally done!! Finis. Owari. Over. The end. Yay!! :D

Just wrote it yesterday so let me know if I missed something!

Chapter Thirteen: The Fifteenth

"You needn't act as if you're being sentenced to a fate worse than death."

Lisbon looked up at Jane's teasing words and mustered a smile. "Right. Well, it's actually pretty late. I should get going."

She tried to nonchalantly pull her hand from his grasp, but he was too quick. Tightening his grip, he pulled her to the door. "Not so fast, Lisbon. You didn't think I'd let you go that easily, did you?"

He tugged her after him and she realized they were heading toward his couch. Gently, he pushed her down and followed, sitting next to her with his feet propped on the small table in front of him and his arms stretched up behind his head. Totally relaxed. Unlike her. Which was ridiculous. She could handle this. She steeled herself and straightened her shoulders.

Okay. She was ready.

She looked over to Jane, his eyes sparkling with something that looked suspiciously like amusement. She opened her mouth, determined to speak before he did.

Nothing came out.

Okay. She was not ready.

She closed her mouth and looked at Jane helplessly. He laughed, unable to restrain it. "Lisbon, my dear. It is not so serious a situation as you make it out to be."

She rolled her eyes and elbowed him not so gently. His laughter turned into coughing as she retorted, "Stop being so smug."

Jane's hands came out from behind his head, one going to his now tender side and the other grabbing her hand yet again. He turned serious once more. "I meant what I said."

She didn't ask what he was talking about. "I don't know what to say to that, Jane."

He smiled. "I know. I kinda figured that when you put rule fourteen into effect."

He enjoyed her surprised expression.

"You don't have to say anything. I understand," he said gently. She shook her head.

"No, I do. I just don't have the words."

Ignoring her discomfort, he stretched out his other hand and held it against her cheek, feeling the softness of her skin. "You don't need them."

A thousand questions fluttered through her mind, but one reigned supreme: what did that mean for them? Before she could force more words out, Jane leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. Her eyes fell shut. It was a soft kiss, chaste really.

But powerful. He pulled back and leaned his forehead against hers. Her eyes were still closed and he memorized how her lashes looked fanned against her skin. He wanted to memorize everything about her.

After losing his family, he had never thought it possible to find this feeling again. This...what had he called it? Oh, yes. Intimacy. He didn't think it existed beyond his wife and child. Camaraderie perhaps. Friendship maybe. Even trust.

Lisbon had proved him wrong. All without trying. Love seemed too tame a word to describe his feelings. One could love a friend. A mother. A sister. But Lisbon was different. With her, there was sort of intimacy. He could tell her his worst secrets, could reveal his darkest side. She had no illusions about his personality. In fact, if he were honest with himself, he knew that Lisbon saw a side of him that even his wife had not. His wife hadn't truly known the bitter angry part of him. To be fair, it had not often come out to play then, in the life they had built with one another—with their daughter.

Now, though. He was different. He was different with Lisbon. And he knew she was with him, too.

He slid a hand behind her neck and into her thick hair, pulling her closer until she was wrapped in his embrace. He wanted to lay on the couch and feel her stretched along his body, every breath and heartbeat there for him to interpret, but he knew he couldn't move too fast. Lisbon was, by nature, cautious.

He felt her body relax and settle into his hold, but he could practically _hear_ her thoughts churning. "Teresa, stop thinking so much."

He felt her smile against his throat. It was a lovely feeling. "Thought you weren't psychic?"

"Don't have to be." One hand buried in her hair and the other spanned across her delicate ribcage, he sat there and just reveled in the feel of her. "It's not rocket science. We've established that you're different with me and I'm different with you—"

He ignored her mutter which sounded vaguely like "_You_ established, you mean."

"—so it's only logical that we be different together." He pulled back slightly and lifted her face, dropping another kiss on her lips, this one more forceful. "Understand?"

She was silent for a long moment. So long that he began to grow a bit anxious, wondering if he had misread the signs. Maybe this was too fast. Maybe she needed more time. Maybe—

"Ever heard of rule fifteen?"

His brow furrowed. Back to the rules? "Rule fifteen?"

She nodded. "Yes. How to avoid something. More of a technique rather than a rule, maybe. This one is specifically designed for avoiding conversation."

His confusion didn't lessen. He had just basically confessed his feelings, his intentions, to her and she wanted to avoid him. _Not_ a good sign. He opened his mouth, ready to plead his case.

The words never came though. His mouth was busy with other, more important, things. As his hands were sliding down Lisbon's sides, just _feeling_ her once more, he had a rather inane thought.

He could really come to love rule fifteen.


End file.
